


Darkness in the Angel

by manipulative_broken



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Awesome Alana Bloom, Blood, Blood and Injury, Cannibalism, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Carrying, Dark Will Graham, Death, Doctor Hannibal Lecter, Episode: s03e07 Digestivo, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Headaches & Migraines, M/M, Minor Will Graham/Margot Verger, Protective Hannibal Lecter, Seizures, Someone Help Will Graham, Will Graham Has Encephalitis, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 06:32:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16848925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manipulative_broken/pseuds/manipulative_broken
Summary: This story is a role-reversal of S3E7, Digestivo, where Hannibal and Will get kidnapped by Mason. But this time, Hannibal's face is the one being carved off and Will is chained up in the farm. With the help of Alana, will Will be able to save Hannibal and himself, without destroying his sanity along the way?





	Darkness in the Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! It's me again! Honestly, writing this for so thrilling, but it took sooo long ugh... I'm such a procrastinator. But I really hope you enjoy this fic! Once again thanks for supporting! Muah! <3

The metal rubbed against Hannibal's wrist, creating unsatisfying friction as it tightened around him. He was dropped unceremoniously onto his feet, the scruffiness of the suit and tie that belonged to _filthy_ Mason inched at him, but his hands were still bound. His chair was lowered and he jerked, grumbling under his breath. As the men left they unbuckled his wrist, and Hannibal felt a dark urge to lunge and rip out their faces. Too many factors. An unsatisfying thought slinked into his head, and he scoffed, flexing his fingers instead. Behind the haze of his anger, he heard Mason chuckling about Will. That brought his attention snapping back to that _dirty corrupt pig._

"I snatched Will Graham right out of your mouth. You must be famished." Mason teased, slurring his words in an ungraceful manner that left Hannibal raising an eyebrow.  


A plate clattered before him, placed by a bulky figure that lingered behind him; that Hannibal paid no attention to, instead focusing on the food. _Oysters Rockefeller._ Half-shell oysters that have been topped with various ingredients and are then baked or broiled. HIs gaze flickered upwards and despite Mason's cockiness he could sense easily how Mason ached for the praise of the dishes to trail from his mouth. Predator gaze landed on Will, who was as scarred as him, blood staining through the bandage that barely covered his wound. Eyes that blinked rapidly, the irises dissociated and blank, became dark with emotions as Will locked eyes with Hannibal. A flurry of negative emotions drifted over his ocean blues, and Will quickly looked away, avoiding his gaze.

Hannibal's head shot up, gaze lingered on the plates laid out on the table, the oysters, the roast pig, and sniffed. He blinked, processing, before shooting Mason a look. "It's good." A compliment amidst the savageness of the dining room. Mason's features immediately brightened up, bragging, "It was my honor to cook it for you, Dr Lecter." and from the corner of his eyes he spotted the figure again, this time face darkened slightly. Hannibal smiled to himself, knowing full well Mason didn't cook. He doubted Mason even knew _how_ to cook.

The figure stepped out from the kitchen, now walking around the dining room, expression void of any emotion besides barely concealed excitement. Hannibal appreciated how fast he managed to hide away his feelings, a skill Hannibal had mastered over the years. Hannibal glanced up at Mason, trying to drift his attention away from Will to Mason, who was impatiently drumming his fingers against his hand rest, obviously eager for the torture to begin.

"What would be the first cuts of me you'll serve?" Hannibal spoke up. Mason opened his mouth, but the man, who he now knew as Cordell, stepped in, cutting off Mason in a way he would define as rude. But the chef was speaking, and so he turned his head towards Cordell.

"The first course will of course be your hands and feet, sizzling on a Promethean barbeque." Hannibal was delighted at the grace of how well the words flowed from him, as if he had practiced in front of the mirror before this big day. A quick glance at Will showed how he had snapped out of his dissociations and was now focused on Cordell's extravagant planning. A pink tongue stuck out, licking over dry lips and Hannibal was sure Will, at the very least, appreciated Cordell's cooking efforts as much as he did. "The coal is white and very hard; makes a clear ringing sound when struck." Cordell continued, pride dripping from his tone.

Hannibal smirked, returning his look back to Mason. He chuckled, "You thought of everything."

Mason tilted his head, a devious smile glinting in his face. He was sure Mason would be screeching in joy right now, waving his blade around if he could, with both Will and Hannibal tied up before him. "And after, we'll have a little pyjama party, you and I." Mason added, and Hannibal's smile brightened even more, deeply amused by everything and how happy Mason sounded. Like watching the sheep dance while the wolf hid behind the shadows of the forest. Meanwhile, Wil's eyelashes fluttered, and his jaw was tightly set. Fists were clenched beneath the table, and Hannibal wanted to reach out to sooth his little lamb. Tell him he was going to save both of them. But first, he wanted to watch the drama unfold.

Cordell seemed to notice how tense Will seemed to look. He stepped forward, hovering just inches away from Hannibal. "Not the brave little FBI agent anymore, is it? How far you have spiralled down, a horrendous, pathetic downfall of your success." He mocked, threading dangerously on Will's fragile mind. Hannibal watched as Will sat there shaking, eyes radiating danger and fury that sent chills down Hannibal's back. Realizing that Will wasn't going to respond, Cordell was about to turn away before Will snapped. He lunged forward, nearly topping out of his seat as his teeth latched onto Cordell's face. Even before he could shout, Will had tossed his head backwards and ripped a chunk out of his face, blood spilling and smeared all his mouth. Cordell grunted, blood gushing out from the spaces between his fingers even as he gripped his face, staggering around. Will locked eyes with Hannibal, and the insanity and fear that flooded Will's eyes painted a smile upon Hannibal's face. 

_My brave little lamb._

"Well, no pyjama party for you, Mr Graham." Hannibal could sense amusement in his 'disappointed' tone. Hannibal was still smiling, trying to curb his delight in seeing Will lash out. It sent tingles down to his core whenever Will lost control like that, like a wild animal waiting to ravished and tamed. He glanced back at Will, who spat out the chunk, before leaning back in his seat, blood still trickling from his red-stained mouth as he is unable to wipe it off. His eyes were glowing with dominance and Hannibal wasn't if If it was just his hallucinations but he detected a smugness hidden behind the scared façade.

He was absolutely proud of _his_ Will Graham.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Will Graham grunted, tugging against the ropes. He should have known he would take the blunt of the torture, since he had been the one to carve Mason's face off. He felt a presence behind him, and vaguely there was the smell of fire.

Before he could understand what was going to happen, a sizzling flame was pressed upon his back, and he screamed, back arching, tearing against the ropes, his skin completely on fire as the Verger logo was branded upon his back. He was nearly sobbing, incoherent as the pain reached a new level and even bordered above it. His lungs were closing up on itself, and the searing heat fried his brain, his eyes blurry with tears and unfocused. When the brand was pulled away, his body sagged, held upright by the ropes that ripped against his skin, making skid marks along his pale wrists. He was a mass of broken bones, breathing ragged and panting. Eyes wandered around unable to focus besides the flickering black spots in his dull vision. The pain was slowly subsiding, but the agony and knowing the disguisting scar would forever be on his back sent a wave of emotional pain crashing towards him.

The person, probably Cordell, leaned forward, near his face, as if he had forgotten what Will did to him just a few minutes ago. "There. Now you're Verger property. But you'll never be one, disguisting foul creature." He hissed, anger concealing the mockery. Despite the throbbing of his head and the stinging of the brand against this flesh, Will couldn't hep but spit, "I don't even want to be one." His eyes were half-lidded, but beneath the long lashes were a darkness that Hannibal had fostered and Cordell had stirred up. A meneacing chuckle. "Oh, don't worry, Mr Graham. You'll have a lot of fun in the farm." Cordell smirked sadistically and turned away. Now left in the room all alone, his thoughts immedieately flittered back to Hannibal. Where was he? Was he going through the same treatment as he was? Or something else?

Either way, he didn't want to know.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Hannibal was bound tightly against the chair, body pressed up\top pillows and a soft backing. He was a mix of fury and irritancy. Will's screams still echoed along the hallways, bouncing around the room and resonating in his ears. He hated what Will was going through, and the alpha wanted to lunge out and rip everyone to shreds, but a quick tug against the metal chains clearly indicated he wasn't getting out anytime soon. Instead, he glanced around, noticing all the medical instruments around him.

Not only Cordell was not only a chef, but also a plastic surgeon? Hannibal noted.

Just then the door swung open, and Cordell stepped in all dominating all dressed in surgeon rags and a mask draped over his mouth. Still he spoke clearly, running a large hand over Hannibal's neck that made him want to shudder in disgust.

"What a nice face. Mason really has great taste." With the words from Cordell's mouth, and the sharp glint in his eyes, Hannibal quickly understood what Mason intended his fate to be. "So, you will cook me after?" Hannibal quipped, and Cordell grinned, "Yes, of course, Dr Lecter. I won't let any of your delicious pieces go to waste." He licked his lips, smiling lustfully at Hannibal, and he felt a sudden urge to rip out his throat.

 _Cordell is foul_. He thought, snarling to himself. _Just like the master, I guess._

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   
Will's arms and legs were tied up behind him. He didn't know how long he had been tied up, numb with the fiery pain and the aching mess of his limbs. He only snapped to his senses when there was a creak in the heavy barn door, and the classic clip-clops of heels against the sandy farm floor.

"Will Graham." Alana's voice rang out sharp amidst the stillness of the barn. He raised his head weakly, blinking at her from under tired eyes. "Alana." Another slim figure stepped out from behind her, long curls illuminated by the night sky. "Margot." Alana cleared her thirst, stepping forward until she was an arm away from his tied-up frame. She lowered herself so she could be level with him. Will managed to catch her eyes, filled with regret, guilt and overwhelming pity, before he lowered his head.

"What are you doing here...just to mock me?" Will spoke gruffly, watching through his lashes as Alana shifted, resting her hands on her knees to seem more, what, professional? Trustable? Alana hated Hannibal, and Will with his lying heart just had to crawl back to him. Why would Alana be here other than to punish him for his actions even more than he has already endured?

Alana exhaled a breath. Her hand reached out, wrapping gently around Will's half-shaven chin, forcing him to raise his gaze.

"No, Will. I'm here to free you."

Will stared back at her. "Free...me? After I betrayed Jack and, well, you?" He spluttered out in disbelief. Will wasn't used to forgiveness like this, pure and rare in the shambles that was his life. Margot kneeled in besides Alana, and nodded. "Ms Bloom can't bear to watch you suffer." At this, Will scoffed, "I'm not suffering." Raising an eyebrow curtly, Alana spat, "Not suffering after you just had the Verger logo branded across your back?" Hearing that, he shrunk back, as far as his ropes allowed, an instinctual itch climbing its way around his scar.

A blade was waved before him. Sharp and glinting in the moonlight, it was the perfect tool for cutting Will free. A move even Will didn't even find pleasant. Deep inside he knew what his heart would drag him to.

"William." Her voice ever so commanding, Will's eyes flickered upwards, watching Alana twirl the blade around her finger. Elegant and graceful...yet a far reach from Hannibal's skilled fingers. "I'll want to give you a choice, but I'm pretty sure you'll defy it anyways." Margot nodded, her brown orbs landing on Will, pity and yet a deep understanding in her eyes. She had been Hannibal's patient; she knew his manipulation and somehow managed to drive away from it whilst Will had succumbed to the darkness itself. Like the devil dragging the angel away from the gates of heaven and into the pits of fire and hell, without resistance.

"I want you to be safe, Will. Over everything I still care for you. I will set you free, but it'll be your choice whether to give that freedom to Hannibal as well." A small curl of her lips in contempt at the name, but she masked it as fast as it appeared. Will didn't reply, nor when she leaned forward to kiss his forehead gently, only hearing his heart throb heavily in his chest, his body strung forward so it felt like anytime it would jump out of his mouth. His mind was already made.

The rope of his leg was ripped sharply, his left limb swinging down, blood rushing to un-numb the aching pain. "Thank you." was all Will could rasp out, as his other leg was released, thudding on the ground. He struggled to gain his footing, but even broken like this Will disliked the weakness mirrored in Alana's eyes. "Pass me the blade. I'll do the rest myself." He spoke, hand stretched forward. Alana paused, as if hesitating Will wanted to use the blade for himself or _on_ himself.

"Don't hurt yourself."

"Don't worry, Alana. I'll be fine." Will couldn't even lie to her face, the words slipping out as brokenly as his trembling voice. He has never been fine ever since he met Hannibal in Jack's office room.

As his limbs were finally all released, he stumbled, barely catching his balance, and would have landed smack into the hay had Alana and Margot not grabbed onto his weak arms. As he blinked, a sudden headache exploded in his head. He didn't know what was the cause of it, but now he wasn't tripping over his legs because of pain. He couldn't bloody see properly, random slides of images switching between his eyes.

He couldn't tell reality from the hallucinations that clouded his mind. His head was spinning, his vision was dazed unfocused, and he blinked, staggering around trying to find a clutch but only crasping at thin air. There was a dull humming behind his  ears, and dazily he realized it was Alana, gripping his face tightly in her small hands. "Will!" He vaguely came to his senses, breathing uneasy as his eyes wandered around her face.

"Will! Are you alright?"   


Despite the rope already being untied from his neck and limbs he could still sense the presence of it lingering on his skin, holding; rearing him back before the feral beast inside. He lifted his arm, extending a finger towards a vague figure in front of him. "Tell me. IS that him?" He shuddered, trying to concentrate but the edges were blurred with confusion. "Is that who? That's the guard I took the knife from, Will! You-"

"No, No...That's not a guard...the guard's over there..." The words that spilled from Will's mouth deepened Alana's worry, Will staring off into the distance as he pointed at one of the pigs. "Will-" He sharply cut her off again, "That's Garrett Jacob Hobbs...it's him, it's him..." His breathing was getting ragged, as his eyes were gently rolling back into his head. His body was wracked in quivers and trembles, as he barely focused his gaze on the guard. Alana was appalled, and reached out for him, but he shrunk away, crouching into a stance Alana knows as predatorial.  


"Will, you have to be careful. They have guns and everything! You're not as strong as them!" Alana tried to protect Will, but even she knew Will was too lost in his head to even hear her. She could hear the words "Garrett" being murmured repeatedly and she sighed. They didn't have the medicine Will needed, nor was Hannibal there to safely anchor him back to reality. Even she didn't understand the depths of his broken mind. So she watched as Will slowly unfolded before her eyes.  


One sharp inhale of breath.  


Will charged.  


His head hurt. His head was pounding at him, like a caged devil wrenching everything in its sight to escape. And the key was standing right before him, Garett Jacobs Hobbs, the same bullet wounds along his shoulder and down his body, blood blossoming to life before his eyes. They rained down like a thunderstorm, drenching him in blood that seeped down his fingers. All the while, he didn't break eye contact with Will, smiling sadistically, the face of his nightmares and every waking, surreal, paranoid thought that flashed through his mind on a daily basis. "See? See?" He repeated, the horrid mantra like a devilish prayer in Will's shattered mind, like one of his baiting hooks yanking him closer to the sweetness of him dying before his eyes.

"Hey! You-"

The second Garett opened his mouth, Will lunged, toppling onto the guard with a ferocity of a wild beast. In the darkness of hi mind, all that surrounded him was black ness of the walls that closed in on them. The roaring over his ears as the guard yelled and called for backup was like the wail of Abigail, blood spilling from her throat as she lay on the floor of her father's kitchen. A glimpse of the silver metal Will knew so well, the same one he fired straight into Garrett's body, and even before the guard could fire it, Will smashed his forehead into his, locking is legs and pinning him against the ground. Garett Jacobs Hobbs smashing into the cabinets along the sink, the splintering of wood, the clattering of shattering dishes and metal, the sound of seams a distant memory that sounded close to home of Hannibal's hell.

A sharp punch and a blow to his stomach sent Will's crashing backwards, smashing into the haystack and the cages of Mason's pigs. They grunted, angered at their disturbance and smacked their head forward against the cages. Reality Will knew his head was bleeding, the cold trickle of blood he was familiar with, but Lost Will was trapped n his head, surrounded by the haunting image too badly and too tightly to let go. Too sunken deep into his pain.

Two more guards came rushing into the barn.

Eldon Stammets and Elliot Budish.   


"Surrender now. Or Mason will be upset when he finds your dead body."

" _I can give you the majesty of your becoming."_ Elliot spoke with such a calm that Will was entranced. But then the images of the wings of his victims, the fungi field of Eldon, a rush of battering anger and emotions. Eldon was clutching at his shoulder from Will's bullet in the hospital, but the grin still latched onto his crooked face. His fingers held onto Abigail's bed, her figure ghastly pale, the only colour being her baby blues and the blooming scar across her throat that spilled blood, staining her dress. "Save me, Dad." A whisper was all it took for Will to lose even more control than he thought he could.

Eldon wanted to be on the offensive side, seeing how he already had Abigail in his grasp. But Garrett Jacobs Hobbs wanted Abigail first, his own daughter a sweet cargo too precious for anyone else to carry. "He's mine to slaughter. I got him first." The original guard cracked his knuckles before throwing a punch, barely missing Will's face as he ducked, the impact landing upon the bars. "Shit!" The guard roared, the broken bone snapping against the metal. His shattered wrist lay limply at his side.

Alana winced behind the pillars.  


Elliot came for Will next, a corrupted lost soul, blinded by the fear of dying, Will recalled. His actions showed forced bravery, yet his eyes shown with a determination to accomplish hs goal, not caring what was in his way.   


A guard, smaller than the rest, just recently recruited into Mason's protective system, knew about Will. He had seen Will being dragged in through the dining room, blood running like rivulets from the rip across his forehead. He heard rumours that Will was insane, and the figure before him proved that right. Will was unstably rocking on the pads of his feet, yet the blade he gripped not once slipped, and his lost gaze held still, never wavering. Unfocused yet as sharp as a bullseye. He would be easy to take down, he noted when he ran into the farm. But he saw clearly how through the cloudiness that fogged up Will's dilated eyes, he clearly dodged a punch and had even pinned Eric (the first guard) down before they had came in. Will Graham wasn't one to be trifled with, but before he could finish the thought, Will was on him, pouncing like a ferocious cat.

Elliot Budish. Cutting up his victims' backs and spreading wide-spread, like an eagle. _An appalling failure of imagination_. Budish came for him with his wings folded in. Will wanted to release the dragon.

Snarling, Will threw himself over the guard's shoulder and sunk the blade into the base of his spine. The guard screamed, wrenching Will's by his ankles and clawing him off his body. As he threw himself forward, the blade tore into his back, slicing through flesh and ripping a long line along his spine. Blood coated Will's hand as he landed, nearly slipping in the blood that pooled below the man.

Elliot turned, and the blood sunk into his eyes, slipping down his waterline like tears, and Will roared, once more gripping the slick blade and clambering towards the man, whose back was arched, stumbling around. He veered forward, tearing the blade through his neck and feeling the familiar spray of blood against this face. Then the empty thud, the gurgle of blood like a booming echo in his ears, resonating in his ears like a scream of the haunted. Abigail's scream.  


Elliot was down.

'Jesus Christ!" The remaining uninjured man didn't dare to step forward again, only levelling the gun towards Will, who's eyes were blown wide open with the blood lust and the hallucinations that overwhelmed him. "What are you..." He cried, backing away into the cages as Will lumbered forward, visibly shaking yet filled the man with a rigidness.

Stammet had his gun cocked before his eyes, like a predator accessing his prey. Will knew him, understood him, as much as Stammet wanted him to. "Don't take what is mine." He whispered, hoarse and raspy as he advanced forward. "What in the bloody hell are you- STOP MOVING!" The guard was acing with panic, but the training he had forced his fear away, determining his authority. He had clear orders not to shoot Will at ANY costs, but he had just seen Will murder his mate before his eyes. He didn't care about orders.

The first bullet fired its way towards Will's neck, barely missing him as he turned just slightly the bullet whizzing past his ea. HE could feel the scrap of the metal flying past, his hairs standing on edge. Will took this as a sign of weakness, seeing how concentrated the guard was on the fancy gun in his hand, Will didn't care about such weapons like this. He wanted to kill? He'd do it with his own bare hands.

_How would you kill me?_

_With my hands._

His fingers latched around Eldon's neck, tightly gripping around it, one hand still grabbing the blade. The cold metal, wet with blood and dirt, pressed against his neck, and before the guard could fire towards Will, just a mere inch away from him, Will slammed him against the pillar and shoved the blade into his Adam's apple. A choked gurgle and a sharp seizure as he convulsed, dropping the gun with a clatter as he raised a hand to his neck, trying to yank the blade out, Will slammed his arm firmly against the wall with his body, tightening his grasp around his neck. "You don't deserve Abigail." was the last words the guard heard as his heart fluttered to a stop. He let go, and the body flopped to the ground, surrounded in his own blood, Will's savageness frame glinting in the reflection.

He felt the shot before he felt the pain, that chugged through his veins. His legs gave up on him, sinking to his knees, the floor slippery. "See..." A dull growl in the back of his head, ad through the haze he saw Garrett Jacob Hobbs, broken, injured, yet never _bloody_ dying. The guard stood before him, able to hold the gun steady with one hand, eyes burning with vengeance.

The click of the gun. Levelled before his eyes as he crumpled in the bloody waters he created.

Then BANG.

Will opened his eyes. He expected a white page, but instead only the carcasses of men stared back at him. Garrett Jacob Hobbs was gone. Eldon and Stammets had disappeared leaving only Mason's guards. One lay dangerously close to him, a steaming gun hole in his head. He turned, catching Margot's gaze. She nodded curtly and Will understood, feeling the stickiness of warm blood between his fingers. His shirt was stained blood red, head whirling but back to reality. He killed them...with a blade...and his own two hands.

Will looked down and flexed his fingers, noticing the flesh tears underneath his jagged fingernails. He glanced upwards, where the sun had sent and the stars were twinkling. _Time to get Hannibal._

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The metallic whirring was really damn annoying to his ears, as Hannibal jerked around in the metal clasps, trying to understand their mechanism and whether he was able to break free. Honestly they looked like thick rocks pinning his arms down, and he couldn't really budge from his seat. "So..." Cordell moved forward, eyes flicking up and down. "Whatever shall I do with you?" It came out like a purr, content and cockiness thick in his voice. Hannibal resisted a sharp growl from being emitted, just aggressively snapping at Cordell when he inched closer. He could smell the oysters on him, mixed along with the horrid smell of overconfidence. He leaned forward, trailing a fat finger down Hannibal's jaw. Hannibal growled at him, anger flashing through his dark hazels. 

"Get your disgusting hands away from me, Cordell." Threat laced his words as he snarled at him, the sharpness and menace even making Cordell back away slightly. But immediately he remembered Hannibal is the one caught in his spider web, and his lips curled, both in delight of his capture and the deep-in-thought look that Hannibal seemed to portray, that Cordell misunderstood as vulnerability. Hannibal felt like his insides had been flipped inside out, cringing hard.

Once more, he jerked against the cuffs to no use.

"Stop struggling, Hannibal. It will all be over soon." Cordell slipped the surgeon's mask over his head, and picked up the sharp blade. HE sauntered towards Hannibal and then the door exploded.

Bullets fired their way through the door, before it crashed weakly to the ground. A figure stepped in and almost immediately the thick musk of blood and heat flooded Hannibal's nostrils. Will. He craned his head as best he could and watched as his little lamb stepped over the broken pieces of wood, eyes trained onto Cordell. His shirt was soaked with blood, hi breathing extremely ragged as he kicked wood away from his feet.

"Well, Mr Graham. You shall be a delight to be in my company." Cordell chuckled, and placed the metal blade down besides Hannibal. Hannibal hadn't even blinked before Will jumped, ferocious like a wild tiger, and sunk his nails into Cordell's shoulders, dragging the bulky-man onto the ground. Cordell, stunned at first, took two blows to the head before he reacted, gripping onto Will's Graham's throat and slamming the smaller man onto the ground. Stars flashed before his eyes, and his head sank the devil's melody. Will groaned, turning his head a second before a surgical blade landed where his head was. Cordell currently distracted by the jammed blade in the floor, Will yanked him down, using his body weight to slam his elbow into Cordell's throat. He felt bones twist and shatter on impact, gurgling and clutching at his broken windpipe. His breath came out hissing, yet one hand still gripped the blade. 

Swiping at Will's waist, he felt skin tear and blood gush out, soaking into his shirt even more than possible. He could probably wring out blood if he wanted. Cordell snarled in delight as Will growled, stumbling forward onto one knee as he pressed against his wound. "You're a feisty one, Mr Graham." Cordell blubbered, words broken, before his hand flew forward, aiming for Will's throat. In a speed Will's lost brain itself couldn't comprehend, he grabbed Cordell's arm and snapped.

A roar that shook the ground erupted, as Will grabbed at Cordell's hair with tight fingers and pounded at his head. Blood stained his knuckles and his hand hurts, but the blood-lust and haziness never stopped, not until he couldn't feel a pulse and all Will was dragging was an empty sagging body. He blinked, the nightmare draining away, leaving only reality in his wake. Cordell's forehead was split open, both from Will's fingernails and the blows. His eyes were rolled back in his head, blood from his head wounds dripping into his eye sockets, the red eyes staring accusingly back at him. Will's breath caught in his throat, and he released the lifeless body, standing up unsteadily and his whole body ached. He looked down at his hands, and his shirt, torn open at the seams and where Cordell had dug his blade into his waist. Blood was pouring down his leg like slick.

"Will." Hannibal's voice cut through his dazed head, ringing like an alarm, waking up and heightening his senses. It was a voice he was used to, a voice that anchored him to reality. He locked eyes with him, and a deep ache stirred inside him. He wanted to scream at Hannibal for ripping apart his future, yet he wanted to rush into his warmth, allowing the stronger man to carry him to safety. The beast had been released and Hannibal had been the key. "What have I done..." Will whispered, voice catching in his throat harshly. His nails were dark with dirt, skin and grim and he probably looked insane before Hannibal. He killed with grace and sophistication, Will killed...like a maniac.

"No, Will. This is beautiful. Now, would you mind taking the key and unlocking me?" Hannibal smirked at Will, the compliment like an angel's feather blessed to him by demons themselves. He stared at Hannibal for a moment, brain hazy and halting, before he registered Hannibal's words and slipped the key from Cordell's blood-soaked jacket. The keys were slippery, and Will with his shaky fingers, nearly dropped the keys a few time before managing to unlock the padlocks around Hannibal's wrist. Hannibal watched in amusement.

Freed from captive, Hannibal flexed his fingers, twisting his wrist around to get blood flowing. He grabbed Will's shoulder, which visibly made Will tense up, before dropping a hand to cup around Will's bleeding wound. "We will tend to your injuries back home. Right now, we have to get out of this blasted farm." Will nodded dozily, the haze of darkness slipping away and finally succumbing to the pain that seemed to suddenly crash over like a wave upon him. His lashes fluttered gently over ocean blues, and he slipped into unconsciousness, falling into Hannibal's arms. "Ah." Hannibal didn't know what words were supposed to leave his mouth, clutching at Will's small frame in his arms. HIs legs were clearly about to slide off the ground, so Hannibal, in an act of impulse, scooped Will up into his arms in a bridal-carry, Will's head thudding against his arm. 

His skin was warm, flaring up against Hannibal's cold skin, and his curls were damp with sweat and blood. _My beautiful lamb._ Hannibal smiled internally, a soft feeling blossoming inside his heart as he carried Will out of the shambles of the surgeon's room. He lay limply in the doctor's arms, exhausted and drained, the fiery heat of Will's encephalitis making it's way towards Hannibal's sharp nose, and Hannibal couldn't help constantly glancing at the fragile boy in his arms as he strode.

He didn't know how Will had escaped, nor really cared about his wounds. He would settle with those later. The only thing that mattered was the boy in his arms, his scent intoxicating and chugging though Hannibal's veins, the dark musky smell one so precious he stored in his mind palace. He stepped out of the doorways, glancing down the courtyard as three guards lay scattered across the floor, blood pooling around like a gorgeous masterpiece Hannibal appreciated. Will wasn't the most meticulous killer, but he sure as hell impressed him. He had shaped the angel into his shadows of darkness, and the pure thing had allowed it to corrupt his soul. It was a savage dream come true.

He spotted a flurry of red, and he cocked his head, sniffing the air. Perfume lingered in the air along with others. Hannibal smirked, glancing down at the sleeping broken boy in arms. "Alana and Margot." His words trailed off into the air, swept away by the winter breeze. " _Thank you_." He ached for Will to wake up and see in a clear light the mass of his destruction and his design etched onto the walls, a scripture of light and death that Hannibal strung together and Will acted out. He took one last waft of the devastation, before turning away towards the doorway, cradling Will against his chest.

They stepped out into the snow, the weight of it making it hard to walk, especially with  a whole other person in his arms. Now out in the cold air, Will's panting came out in mist, hitting against Hannibal's neck like snow piling onto a roof. He trudged through the snow, Will unconsciously curling tighter towards him for warmth, and Hannibal's heart echoed silently in the chambers of his palace. He heard footsteps behind him, stomping angrily in the snow. Then silence, the silent rounds blasting into their heads, and only the winter breeze followed them along. Hannibal looked up at the tree, spotting Chiyoh there, rifle cocked and smoke and mist streaming from the barrel. She cocked an eyebrow at Will's body, and Hannibal smiled back.

"He's shaping _beautifully_. Like a clay moulded to fit darkness and power around him." He spoke, in genuine pride and awe at Will, and Chiyoh, always the stone-faced like Hannibal, couldn't help but laugh into the emptiness of the sky. "You always knew how to shape people, Hannibal. Don't break him." Her words turned serious at the end, after spending some time with him and well, shoving him off the train, she had come to understand Will's heart, his urges and what drove him. She, deep in her heart, knew Hannibal would destroy Will one way or another, but couldn't say it. Hannibal paused, before exhaling, his breath misting out in the frosty weather.

"Let's hope he doesn't destroy himself first, Chiyoh."  


Chiyoh watched as Hannibal trudged deeper into the woods towards Will's house. She lingered on the tree, hands still instinctively curled around the rifle. She watched them trail down the snow, the tree's swaying as if they were welcoming the two. The moonlight twinkled upon the beads of blood trailing behind them, soaking into the snow and staining it dark red. A childish grin looped onto her face, and still smiling, she packed her rifle and dropped down from the tree.

The stars danced in the jet-black sky, as the three of them left the ruins and death-stained architecture of Muskrat Farm.

**Author's Note:**

> I really like this type of one-shots, where the scene changes and stuff, and I would probably be writing more of this kinds, rather than series? Depends...hehue. Thanks for reading my story, and feel free to write down in the comments any suggestions or scene 'role-reversals' changes ideas! I love you guys so much :33


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